


Intermission

by ByCandlelight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts, Mild Angst, Post-War, Thestrals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByCandlelight/pseuds/ByCandlelight
Summary: What was totally unfair, thought Ginny as she dug her quill viciously into the parchment, was that Harry and her brother got to fuck off to Life After Hogwarts, but she was stuck back here, with classes and Newts, as if she hadn’t spent the last year winning a war.





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subwaywall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subwaywall/gifts).



 

What was totally unfair, thought Ginny as she dug her quill viciously into the parchment, was that Harry and her brother got to fuck off to Life After Hogwarts, but she was stuck back here, with classes and Newts, as if she hadn’t spent the last year winning a war.

 

It’s not that she really wanted Harry to come back with her. She hadn’t really thought he would. 

 

(“I can’t go back right now,” he’d said. “Maybe in a few years, when the war isn’t so fresh, and the damage is repaired. But now I have to move forward.” That had been after they’d decided not to try again; ‘moving forward’ had also been mentioned in that discussion. It hurt her more than she had liked to admit, even if the decision had been mutual. They still wrote; they were friends. But it hurt.)

 

The issue was that she had grown up; they all had. And now she was expected to accept once more being treated as a child.

 

Being home had been the worst. Between grieving for Fred, and her mother fussing over  _ her little girl _ it had been unbearable.

 

For one thing, her mother had not appreciated her new vocabulary.

 

Ginny had not appreciated her mother’s censure. Her respect for authority had hardly escaped the war unscathed.

 

At least there still was Luna. Although Luna was her own peculiar frustration, because somehow, she had weathered the war, and still not learned to stand up for herself.

 

Sure, the blatant taunting had come to an end, a product of a newfound solidarity and maturity following the war. But there were still the offhand comments, and the people who forgot themselves and called her Loony to her face.

 

(Ginny had asked her, once, if it bothered her.

 

“Not so much now. There are fewer nargles, so I lose less of my things,” Luna had said, “Besides, they don’t really mean it.”

 

Ginny had nodded, not knowing what to say. She was pretty sure they did mean it. And, well, she always refrained from commenting on the nargles.

 

But Luna had seemed to know what she was thinking, “It’s okay. I know you don’t think they’re real; no one else but Father does.”

 

Ginny had felt chastened, and asked “If you lent me your glasses, would I see them?” because damn everything she refused to be like everyone else.

 

Luna had considered for a moment, before replying carefully, “I don’t think so. No one ever really sees the same thing as anyone else. And I don’t think you really believe you’d see them, but it’s very nice of you to offer.”)

 

***

 

It was a Sunday morning in November, cold and clear, but Ginny was pleasantly warmed from the exertion of flying--one of the few pure unadulterated joys in her life. Now, unfortunately, it was time to head inside and get a start on that potions essay. Hardly a thought she relished. 

 

As she strolled across the grounds, however, she spotted a blond figure in the distance. Was that...yes, it was Luna. 

 

Well. This was far more interesting. Potions could wait.

 

Because Ginny, unlike certain other people she could name, did not stalk people, she merely jogged in Luna’s direction, not bothering trying to be subtle. It was hardly that Luna was secretive, just that most people never cared to find out what she was doing.

 

Luna caught sight of her soon, and gave a friendly smile. Ginny couldn’t help but notice the small sack she had clutched in her right hand. Noticing her curiosity, Luna explained, “It’s to feed the thestrals. They can fend for themself, of course, but they always like a treat. You can come, if you want?”

 

Ginny agreed.

 

It was a good ten minute walk into the woods to find the herd, but Ginny knew that Luna had visited them before, and so she trusted her sense of direction. It occurred to her, suddenly, that she would be able to see them now. It would be the first time. 

 

She’d heard that they pulled the carts to take the students to Hogwarts, but things at the beginning of the year had still been in disarray, and she had arrived early to help with the repair efforts.

 

Memories from her fourth year, rose unbidden, when she had ridden the thestral without seeing it, clutching its invisible neck and watching the ground that fell away below her. She had been so young then.

 

How swiftly she had flown towards danger and death, for the sake of her friends. How thoughtlessly. 

 

But never again. Her eyes were open now.

 

And then they had found the thestrals, and Ginny let go of her reflections.

 

They were rather gruesome creatures, really, and Ginny would have feared them, if she didn’t know better. Clearly Luna had no such compunctions, as one of the small herd approached her and nudged her shoulder with its bony snout. Luna smiled, and offered it an apple in her flat palm. It took the apple almost delicately, hesitated but an instant, and then devoured it in seconds.

 

While they clearly knew Luna, the thestrals were more hesitant about approaching Ginny. Luna noticed, of course, and handed her a carrot to offer them. 

 

Hesitantly, and a bit nervous, Ginny held it out ot the nearest thestral. 

 

“Put your palm flat, and your fingers together,” Luna warned, and Ginny hastened to comply. “She won’t mean to, but she might nip your fingers otherwise.

 

The thestral lunged forward to snatch the carrot, and Ginny had to force herself not to flinch at the sudden motion. 

 

A couple other thestrals wandered closer, perhaps hoping she had more food, but at that point Luna tossed the rest of the contents of the bag in their direction. Raw meat, apparently.

 

“It’s best not to hand feed them that,” Luna explained, “they can get a bit aggressive with meat. But they’ll trust you now that you’ve made friends with them. People don’t like thestrals generally, so they’re shy.”

 

“Why?” Ginny asked, although clearly their macabre appearance did not work in their favor.

 

“I think they remind people of what they don’t want to think about.”

 

“Do they remind you?” Ginny said. They didn’t remind her. Or, that is to say, they didn’t remind her more than anything else did.

 

“Yes, but sometimes it’s nice to remember.”

 

They stood in silence for a while as the thestrals nosed around the forest floor, looking for more scraps, and then they walked back, talking of quidditch and gossip and the thousand other inconsequential things that made up their lives as they were.

 


End file.
